


Recovery - January 1994

by swannkings



Series: Portrait of Imogen Swift [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Big Brother Prefect, Felix is a Dragonologist, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 16:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17770682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swannkings/pseuds/swannkings
Summary: Imogen receives a visit from her former Prefect.





	Recovery - January 1994

Imogen would have rather been left home bleeding through her bandages than stay another minute in St. Mungo’s, and she certainly could have done without the ever insistent Nymphadora Tonks pacing around her bed, picking up and reading every card sent to encourage Imogen’s health.

“I didn’t see who it was, Tonks.” Imogen was exasperated. “Can you stop that, you’re making me nervous.”

“You’re lucky Torvus found you,” said Tonks. “You could be dead.”

“Yes, that’s what everyone keeps saying.” Imogen winced as she readjusted in bed. The damage done to her shoulder and back had taken more time and care to repair than she’d hoped. “The Ministry has already sent Aurors, Dumbledore is aware. There’s nothing else to do.”

Tonks grimaced, her pink hair flaring to an intense red. She glanced to the door before speaking in a low voice. “It’s getting tricky, Imogen. Between Black’s escape and the Dementors. All the rumors of You-Know-Who. Things are happening.” She gave a pointed look.

“I  _ know _ ,” said Imogen, annoyance in her voice. A knock at the door interrupted them and sent Imogen into an exaggerated eye roll. “If it’s a nurse tell them I’m dead.”

This made Tonks smile. She opened the door a crack to speak to whoever was on the other side, blocking Imogen’s view. She could hear Tonk’s trying to persuade the person to leave, but finally gave in after what seemed to be a long, silent, stony pause.

“Imogen,” she said in a clipped tone, reluctantly opening the door. “It’s Felix.”

Felix. Imogen hadn’t seen Felix Rosier in nearly seven years. He was still tall and pale, his black hair longer and slicked back away from his face. The most notable difference was the width of his shoulders and a thin scar running from his temple into his hair. What a surprise.

“What took so long?” Imogen quipped. “Did the owl with the house points score get lost?”

He cracked a smile, but refused to let it reach his eyes.

“Well, I’m starving,” chimed Tonks. “Need anything, Imogen?”

“I’m fine.”

When Tonks left the room, still giving Felix a hard look, he gave a heavy sigh. He relaxed his body, dropped his coat over Imogen’s legs and sat in the empty bedside chair, sending up a smoky scent.

“Why are all of your friends so intense?” he asked.

“She’s just looking out.” She cocked her head. “Why are you here, though?”

Felix leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “Is there a rule against visiting injured friends in the hospital?”

“No, but….” She paused. “Who told you?”

For a moment, he only watched her, unblinking, his jaw set. “Word gets around. What happened?”

Imogen averted her gaze and feigned ignorance. “I lost a duel.”

“You don’t lose duels.”

“First time for everything.”

“Swift.”

Imogen’s stomach tensed at that tone. It was like she was a child again, reprimanded by her prefect. When she looked back at him it was impossible to look away. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, waiting.

“I was caught off guard, is all.”

Felix remained silent, waiting, making her squirm.

“You can’t be involved.”

“Why not?”

“What is it the Muggles say? Don’t yell ‘fire’ in a cinema?”

He squinted. “What does that mean?”

“It means I can’t lose anyone else!” She took an angry breath and broke eye contact.

The room went quiet. There were only the muffled sounds from the busy hall. Felix shifted in his seat, and for a moment she thought he was standing to leave. Instead, he cleared his throat, asking her to look at him.

His voice was gentle. “You have always kept to yourself, Imogen. You stick your nose where it ought not to be and you hold everything in. That makes you strong, but also a fool. The people who care about you want to help. Let them.”

“I can’t say what happened,” she said meekly. “I can’t tell you why.”

His eyes softened and he squeezed her uninjured arm reassuringly.

“We are family, Imogen. You are still my responsibility.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“It isn’t up to you.”

She watched his face as she spoke, looking for any subtle quirks. “What if it were a Death Eater?”

He blinked; shook his head. “Why would you say that?”

“Just a thought, with Sirius Black escaped, everything they say’s been going on at Hogwarts.”

He clenched his jaw. Felix and Imogen had never properly spoken about his family, but everyone who had known him in school knew what his parents were, and she’d hoped he wasn’t sympathetic toward their values. She hoped she could trust him, that his visit was in good faith, and the very real fear that had started to climb from the pit of her stomach was, in fact, wrong.

“I dunno,” she continued, “It’s just a feeling.”

Felix stood and reached for his coat. “I should go.”

She instantly regretted saying those words. He was right, she did keep to herself, and so far he was the only person who had come to visit her who wasn’t chomping at the bit to find the culprit; who seemed more concerned with her well being than an investigation. What had she done?

“Please, don’t tell anyone,” Imogen said quickly. “They can’t be asking questions.”

He regarded her from the door. “As far as I’m concerned, some sore loser ambushed you. Is that right?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“M-hm.” She could see he still had words for her, that he’d like to press her further, but he knew it wouldn’t work. “Take care, Imogen.”

And he was gone.


End file.
